Archives for posts with tag: contemporary art

 

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Today I went up to Maitland Regional Art Gallery to take some photographs of the Year of the Bird exhibition, curated by Caelli Jo Brooker and myself. All was going well except for two crucial factors: I’m very good at taking blurry action shots, and my little girl decided that the exhibition images would look better with her in all of them. After careful editing, I was left with a much smaller number of shots.Image

 

Marian Drew’s large scale photographs on the right hand wall, with Trevor Weekes’ mixed media drawings and paintings on the left. 

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Tasmanian painter Helen Wright’s imagery (above). 

 

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Marian Drew’s work was hung on a long wall, to the right as you entered the exhibition space; in the same gallery, on the end wall, Emma Van Leest’s intricate papercuts had a large yellow wall to themselves. 

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The exhibition is quite large, so it takes up two adjacent galleries: with the two galleries combined, the floor space is a long rectangle with a partition dividing it in half. The partition has Trevor Weekes’ imagery on the right hand side, and Pamela See’s installation on the other, with exhibition signage on the short side facing the entrance. 

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These are images from the gallery on the  left hand side. Pamela See’s blue acrylic installation is on the partition wall, with David Hampton’s prints on the long wall facing the entrance (next to David’s work you can just see some of Kate Foster and Merle Patchett’s collaborative series). 

 

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Kate Foster and Merle Patchett’s collaborative series. 

 

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Caelli Jo Brooker’s work on the yellow wall, and in a cabinet, on the short wall of the left hand side gallery. 

 

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Vanessa Barbay’s work has a wall to itself, in the left hand gallery, on the long wall facing David Hampton’s prints. 

 

 

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Another shot of Vanessa Barbay’s work, with Caelli Jo Brooker’s drawings in a case in the foreground. 

 

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Pamela See’s installation on the partition wall. You can just see Helen Wright’s paintings on a long wall in the right hand side gallery. 

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David Hampton’s prints and Caelli Jo Brooker’s mixed media work. 

 

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My dear daughter pretending to be some kind of French super hero. 

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Vanessa Barbay’s work on the left, and my wardrobe and painting on the right. 

 

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Another shot of Helen Wright’s paintings. 

 

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Close up images of Helen Wright’s work. 

 

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Marian Drew and Trevor Weekes. 

 

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Marian Drew. 

 

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Final image of Helen Wright’s paintings on the left, and Trevor Weekes’ images on the right. 

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I thought I’d blog about my latest obsession: the peacock. While I’ve had periods of infatuation with various artists, writers, animals, men, drinks, sports and foods, this is my first time with the peacock. It began innocently enough, when my friend KRS began making these wonderfully strange sculptures of peacocks. Interested in female identity, and themes of vanity and beauty, her birds were often tied up in leather straps or wearing blindfolds. They were really mawish. 

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The next peacock sighting was a report by my cousin Julien from a music residency in Italy. He was holed up in a villa, a beautiful place with formal gardens, recording with a range of international and local musos. I was keen to visit, but with a young child, the timing just wasn’t appropriate. But I’ll always remember him writing me an email about the white peacock in the villa gardens. 

For me, this white peacock, has assumed the proportions of the mythic white whale. It was  the classic case of the hoilday abroad coming at the wrong stage in one’s life. Image

 

Anyway, I had Year of the Bird coming up, an exhibition curated by Caelli Jo Brooker and myself for Maitland Regional Art Gallery, and I was struggling to think of something to make for the show. Then it dawned on me: it was time to re-ignite peacock-philia! Caelli and her family delivered an old oak paneled wardrobe and I set about painting it in the carport. 

 

Ironically, birds have taken to crapping on the wardrobe, but I’ve decided that this is their way of expressing admiration. I’ve had a great time getting OTT with peacocks. On the wardrobe, which has some nice Art Nouveau panels (the shapes seem to suggest what subject matter they’d like to have on them) I’ve painted all things peacock.Image

 

There are peacock wings, peacock feathers, peacocks sitting on castles, Art Noveau/vaguely Japanese inspired peacocks, peacocks displaying, courting peacocks, (curried shrimp…), and various designs that are supposed to remind you of… the peacock. It’s never going to win any good taste awards, I’m quite certain of that. Image

 

As the damned thing needs to be delivered to the gallery on Monday, I really need to finish it by Saturday to give it time to dry. The next step is to paint the decorative side panels, then I’m going to pick out some more highlights with white paint, toned down with a bit of burnt umber. Image

 

From a purely parsimonious perspective, I’ve got to admit to loving the underpainting in burnt umber technique, because the pigment is the cheapest of the range. Also, the thin paint applications mean that so far I’m only about three quarters of the way through a small tube, which is pretty good as I tend to be a bit of a paint hog. Image

 

Ah, the romance of the open studio! Plein air painting at its most budget. 

The next step will be to apply some thin washes of colour, hopefully once the flecks of white highlighting have dried, otherwise it’s going to be a horrible mess. Finally, the wardrobe will get a coat of sealer (if I have time) and some brown furniture polish. The theory is that the polish will tone down some of the colours, and make the green trim, which is a rather yucky spearmint chewing gum colour, look a bit more nuanced.Image

 

Thanks to Holley Ryan, who very kindly painted our faces with peacock designs, during a recent visit to EVM. 

 

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This painting, moonlight on your beak, is one of the ones I’m working on for the upcoming Year of the Bird exhibition at Maitland Regional Art Gallery. The plan is to produce two paintings and one painted wardrobe. I was outside this afternoon, trying to scrub the last of the old shellac based varnish off the wardrobe, before the rain started. Thanks to the guy in Eckersleys, my local art store, who suggested that methylated spirits and wire wool would do the trick.

And here’s a portrait picture, taken in front of moonlight by Caelli Jo Brooker today.

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I’d been whining about how I needed a headshot for a magazine article and Caelli very kindly took this one. I like a number of things about the photo, mainly that it appears that I have a bird perching on my head, but also because of the flow of the composition: it leads your eye round in a nice swoopy circle and then along the path into the painted woods.

 

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Rather disgustingly, this blog has recently lapsed into ghost ship status. This is not, however, because I’ve done nothing creative, and thus had nothing to write about; it was unfortunately quite the opposite situation. 

Incidentally, the above pic is some work that was recently installed for about a month at Hobart airport. The paintings are Tiger Bride, an image that I’ve previously blogged about in detail, perhaps too much detail; and Whalesong, an image inspired by the collision between the NZ flagged Ady Gil and the Japanese whaler Shonan Maru 2 in Antarctic waters in early 2010. 

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A more current project that I’ve been working on is Year of the Bird, a group exhibition at Maitland Regional Art Gallery, that explores the prevalence of bird imagery in contemporary art. Year of the Bird includes the work of Marian Drew, Emma van Leest, Pamela See, Vanessa Barbay, David Hampton, Trevor Weekes, Helen Wright and Kate Foster (UK). Very kindly, Drs Yvette Watt and Nigel Rothfels have agreed to write an essay and forward for our catalogue. For more info about the show, and some nifty images, here’s a link to the exhibition blog

The show is due to open at 3pm on Saturday 23rd February, all welcome! 

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This is a mock up of what the exhibition will look like in the space.

Year of the Bird is curated by myself and Caelli Jo Brooker, we previously worked together on Happily Ever After, an exhibition of artists’ books with a fairy tale theme. I remember years ago seeing a really funny t-shirt with a picture of a gun and the slogan ‘whenever I see the words artist/curator, I feel like reaching for my Smith/Wesson’. And yes, once again Caelli and myself are doing the unthinkable by including our own stuff in a show we’ve organised. Caelli’s doing these beaut large scale expressive/scrawly/graffiti inspired museology mash drawings and I’m currently painting birds all over an old wardrobe, and trying to finish off two small canvases. 

I recently moved house, and somewhere in the process of realising that I’ve acquired far too much crap, I cleaned out my back shed and discovered a couple of old paintings of girls interacting with birds. One image, provisionally titled moonlight on your beak, shows an ingenue in a moonlit clearing gazing up at a spectacularly large parrot, with light glistening on his beak. The other was inspired by a hilarious short story about a young girl who was trying to work out which was the ideal pet for her: a parrot or a macaw. She eventually concluded that the macaw would definitely be the more dangerous of the two. Anyway, the image shows a girl in a pet shop gazing longingly at a huge parrot stuffed into a tiny cage. I’ll post photographs when I have them.

The other major time sucker in my life just now, apart from the perennial PhD, which is actually not going too badly, is a rather embarrassing ideological transition that is currently taking place (cynics would label it ‘growing up’). I should just shut up about it, and not risk public humiliation, but as my friends have been teasing me about it, I think it’s probably time to ‘fess up.

I recently brought a second house (the unlikeliness of the purchase continues to surprise me) after a dedicated three month stint of pretending to be a financially responsible adult in order to impress the bank. As they were unlikely to lend money to an artist/writer/single parent/self employed/casual employee, I got a real job with payslips and everything. The shock/the horror. The dedication it takes to turn up to the same place and do the same thing, or variants of it, nearly every day. But the good news is that the bank brought my carefully constructed facade, and decided to lend. 

So my new house is very run down place, with some truly amazing carpentry, hideous grey walls and a layout that reminds me of Prisoner Cell Block H (a long central corridor with small holding cell rooms off either side). It has a motorcycle tyre prints on the kitchen floor, where someone has been doing burn outs, and a crack the size of the Grand Canyon in the bathroom floor.

But it’s mine, and it represents a substantial plunge into the whole capitalist ethos for someone who spent a good portion of her life living out of one backpack, in boats, squats and slum accommodation, who lost everything she owned a couple of times, and never thought she’d own anything. 

More confronting is the inner ideological shift this acquisition represents. I never considered money as something that was particularly interesting, but now I’ve started to see how its deployment may be something that is akin to creativity (in that it involves decision making, planning, strategy and sometimes even instinct). Mind you, in a couple of years time, or if the real estate market tanks, I’m sure that I’ll be crying into my beer, but in the meantime I’m thinking that this is a kind of fun thing to do. 

Here’s a funny blog about personal finance that I discovered recently while searching for free accounting software for artists. I was struck by how sustainability, in all its guises, is implicit in many of her ideas. 

 

Deep South

I thought I’d post a few images from my recent show, Strange Tales, at Despard Gallery, Tasmania. The exhibition was opened by Danielle Wood, who stood in front of this painting and spoke about the odd interplay of the nest of eggs, a symbol of hope, surrounded by writhing worm creatures.

Earlier we’d spoken about this symbol, the nest surrounded by worms, death of hope writ large. I used to breed poultry and one fateful day, after heavy rains, a broody hen abandoned her nest of hatching chicks. The wet and the humidity quickly set in and so did the flies: you can imagine the rest. It turned out that Danielle had seen a similar thing and had been so struck by the image that she turned it into a short story.

Cloud Atlas

This one’s titled Cloud Atlas, after David Mitchell’s book of the same name. No obvious links with the narratives, but I loved the title and the various associations with dreaming: head in the clouds, on cloud nine, clouds with silver lining; also this idea of trying to map something that is constantly in a state of flux.

The painting shows my cousin Rachel and I, as early teenagers, dream-thinking our future lives. In the clouds are small cameos of various desires and fears.

The Secret (on left hand side) and Pleasure Garten 1

The Secret, on the left, is actually an older painting from my last show at Despard back in 2009. Pleasure Garten 1 is a more recent work, inspired by a book about the history of zoological gardens and, more generally, Indian miniature painting. People are doing rude things in the house.

 

I greatly enjoyed making these Sirena drawings, which are a simple, very simple, watercolour wash and then a small amount of detailing with black ink and white gouache. The images show a slow transition of a fish, with a woman’s profile, into something more complex. The final fishes have internal organs that are more human than animal.

After the hyperbolic treatment and intensity of the paintings, I loved the zen moment of just letting paint flow off a brush and bleed onto rag paper.

Sirena drawings

And here’s some more Sirena drawings. I’ve recently become a bit obsessive about the moment in fairy tales where a human turns into an animal, or vice versa, that precise piece of enchantment. The moment where the creature hovers between the two states…

Tiger Bride study

This is a study based on a short story I wrote and folded into my re-telling of the Arabian Nights: 1001 nights: being an Erotic Memoir, and Private Journal, of the Virgin Scheherazade- a gripping tale of love, death, identity, transformation and metamorphosis. There was a funny episode on Sesame Street about a newt that experiences a transformation into a salamander. Anyway, the newt had a Southern American accent and Big Hair, so by the time I get to the end of my title I’m already doing a kind of old style revival: met-a-mooorph-o-sis!

Exhibition in situ

Nice placement of Deep South in an elegant arched recess.

Pleasure Garten 1

A closer view of Pleasure Garten 1. The original idea was to paint a garden full of extinct species, but they turned out more mythological.

Sirena drawing close up

Another Sirena image, this time with human foetus.

Tiger Bride

Another shot of a painting I’ve previously blogged about, Tiger Bride. 

Zoo Garten 1

Like Pleasure Garten 1, Zoo Garten 1 was supposed to be stocked with extinct species, but this didn’t work out. The animals are quietly contained, in too small enclosures. The composition reminds me of a Victorian board game.

 

 

 

I recently spent three happy days in Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery’s cafe, sketching some of their stuffed birds. While the original plan was to blend a few of TMAG’s magnificent collection together, bits of bird meeting parts of reptiles, I ended up getting a bit obsessive about a Currawong and a compassionate looking Kelp Gull.

Probably one of the nicest things about the experience was not actually the drawings I made, but sitting opposite a dead bird and trying to have some kind of dialogue with it. I wish I’d taken a photo of us facing each other across the table, me with cappucino and a wise looking bird encased in a glass box.

The other nice thing about the time in the cafe was on the final day I invited Hobart based friends along for a cuppa and a chat. Thanks to everyone that came along, and thanks also for TMAG staff, particularly Sue Backhouse, for facilitating this opportunity.

Strange Tales, my solo exhibition at Despard Gallery is coming up on the 10th May. It’s a weird blend of painting and literary references, with fairy tale and Tasmanian Gothic iconography, peculiar narratives, unsettling characters and haunting landscapes.

Any creative act is a little like a conjuring trick, you’re never entirely sure if it’s going to come off, and I’m probably too close to this body of work to see it clearly. However I can say that I’ve loved making this work, it’s been a blast and I’m really looking forward to the show. Oddly enough, these paintings are saturated with Tasmanian references: I find myself pawing over photographs of the island’s rugged coastline, early Colonial art, peculiar wildlife, literature, local Museum collections.

I’m also extremely pleased to announce that Danielle Wood, winner of the Australian/Vogel Literary Prize, will be opening the show. If you’re in Tasmania hopefully I’ll see you at the opening: 6pm Thursday 10th May. After the show I’m planning to take a month off and spend part of it traveling around the island. The aim is to visit and document all the lighthouses: can’t wait!

The Marriage Plot, 5 x 4, oil on canvas 2012

I’ve got a solo exhibition coming up at Despard Gallery, Hobart, and have been spending lots of time in the studio trying to get the paintings done. Strange Tales opens on the 10th May and will be on show until the 29th. The painting pictured above is ‘The Marriage Plot’ oil on canvas, about 5′ x 4′ (I haven’t measured them exactly yet so these number are a bit iffy), 2012. It’s named after Jeffrey Eugenides new novel of the same name.

This one has already featured on this blog, I documented the stages of its creation; it’s ‘Tiger Bride’, again oil on canvas, 2012 and about the same dimensions as The Marriage Plot, but obviously landscape format instead of portrait. It owes debts to Australian colonial art, as well as Indian miniature painting and early religious art.

Another new painting created for Strange Tales. This is ‘Cloud Altas’, named after David Mitchell’s novel, if you look closely there are small cities and boats in the clouds. This is an image that continues to haunt, two girls side by side in a boat, sky overhead, sea underneath, the occasional shadow as a shark passes underneath, joy when a fish is caught. As children my cousin Rachel and I used to take to the seas around Dover in a leaking huon pine dinghy; it leaked so much that frequently the fish we caught would swim around our legs when we pulled them into the boat.

More soon…

The good news is that my latest painting, the Tiger Bride, is almost finished. The bad news is that the human propensity to fiddle is potentially endless. And so it is that I have been hovering over the canvas with a tiny brush, making minute changes that no-one is likely to notice. Or even if they did notice, it’s doubtful whether it would make any difference to their reading of the image. Still, one is compelled to fiddle, even though there has to be a point where you say ‘enough! the bloody thing is finished’.

So why all the last minute angsting over trivial details of virtually nil visual impact? A good question! It’s partly a desire to make the painting as whole as it can be. When I get to this point in a painting, the big decisions are no longer clear (such as where the large forms go and what they look like). It’s just thousands of tiny little decisions that could go one way or the other. For example, does the veil need some ribbons blowing around it to increase the sense of dynamism? It’s essentially quite a static image, painted with small, tight brushstrokes, and the ribbons could help add movement. Or flow.

And if I add more detail to the Cape Barren Geese, will this help jump them forward into the foreground? At the moment they’re hovering tonally on the same plane as the stone wall. If I do add detail, what do I add? I had this idea of dressing them in natty little green velvet capes with lace bonnets. But if I do this, will it look incorrigibly naff? More specifically, will it take the image too far down the road towards children’s book illustration, bringing a kind of Wind in the Willows tendency into something that is supposed to be pretty but also ambiguous and hopefully potent.

As you can see, the green velvet capes, complete with frilly neck-lines, made the cut. Their colour (chromium oxide) is too buzzy, much too high a key for the rest of the painting, so next time I’m in the studio I’ll calm them down with a pale tint.

The other reason why it’s sometimes hard to finish paintings is more oblique. One gets so fond of them, they dominate your thoughts for a period of time, and it’s hard to let go. I’m visually monogamous: I like working intensely on just one image at a time. I find that flicking between images, though productive, dilutes the intensity required to make anything good. But this is just me, everyone works differently.

I am however fine with working up the underpainting layers of other canvases while I’m concentrating on one main image. This is a shot of a painting, I’ve nicknamed it church, that will eventually show a small, squat colonial era church with two children at the front, possibly holding animals. I return to this image, again and again, which is odd as I don’t even particularly like American Gothic. 

In a moment of clarity in the studio yesterday, I worked out that most of my images talk about female power. I was musing about the church image, and thinking that I may try painting a 3/4 view of the building, showing some nice sandstone details along the side. But for some reason I couldn’t break away from the image of the church, with a centrally placed door, and a curving path leading up to the entrance. Eventually I decided that the door acts as a kind of female phallic symbol, both a literal and a metaphorical gateway.

This is the photograph, of a Tasmanian church, that I’m using as reference. There’s something terribly mawish about this door.

In other news, I’ve repainted the background to the Dodo with children in snowstorm image (it will probably have a better title eventually, but that’s its working name). I wanted the three figures to form a triangle, and visually operate as a pieta, with the human figures a descending series of forms curved over the dodo, the solid base of the triangle. Anyway, the whole group was off centre, and it wasn’t working.

I also abandoned my plan to paint a mountain, Hobart’s Mount Wellington, in the background. Firstly because I didn’t have decent reference material (despite my many trips to Tasmania to gather reference material, I had somehow forgotten to photograph the mountain that looms over the small city). And secondly because it would have closed in the pictorial space at a time when I’m trying to open it up and play with depth.

Here’s the underpainting of another image, it will eventually depict two girls standing on a beach, wearing colonial era ball gowns and animal masks. One will have her hands raised, pushing the mask off her face (perceiving the history of the place), a pose that dates back, at least in my imagination, to Les Demoiselles d’Avignon. I’m looking forward to this painting, imagining it as gelato coloured, all light pink, olive green, white and pale grey.

Surprisingly, one of my favourite parts of Tiger Bride was painting the lace. If you get up close, there’s some quite odd symbols and patterns woven into the pattern, including Pacific tribal motifs and things that look like crop circles. In retrospect, the lace looked better when parts of it were left sheer, as opposed to covered with ’embroidery’, but I went a bit OCD and didn’t notice this until I’d finished. At this stage I thinking that I can use lace as the visual motif that ties this exhibition together: I like the way it both obscures and consolidates forms. Incidentally the exhibition that these paintings are for, Strange Tales, has been moved back a couple of months. It will now open at Despard Gallery, Tasmania, in late April 2012.

For those of you have been following the progress of my latest painting, Tiger Bride, you’ll be relieved to hear that the damned thing is nearly finished. Today was spent fiddling with minor details such as a the rose petal shower (the petals themselves, up close, look a bit like autopsy tissue samples), the girl’s hands and the tiger’s peculiar harness. I also painted the first layer of the bride’s veil, trying to use the translucent layer of paint to ‘free up’ some of the rather stiff brushwork that characterises the rest of the image.

After fiddling with the painting for most of the morning, I began work on another three canvases, all more or less the same size as Tiger, about 4 foot or 5 foot squarish. One is a funny image of a couple of Victorian looking children cuddling a dodo in a snowstorm (just can’t get enough of those extinct species!) Then there’s a seascape with two girls on a beach, one reaching her arms up to push an animal mask off her face. And the final image is a recurring obsession, a lot like Grant Wood’s famous American Gothic, of two figures standing outside an old church. I’ve painted this latter image so many times that today, when I was drawing it up on the canvas, it literally felt like I was tracing the image.

The process of painting extinct species is oddly unsettling. First of all I trawled through old photographs, and representations, of thylacines to try and work out what the Tasmanian Tiger really looked like. As I mentioned in a previous post, the discovery of their ‘stiff, unwaggable tail’ was strangely exciting, as was an old memoir written by an Englishwoman living on the island during the colonial era. It was moving experience to read, though described in dismissive terms, about the sight of a female Tiger hunting with her pups, nose to the ground as she tracked  prey. “A pretty picture” noted the writer with a sniff, unaware that she was documenting a dying breed.

Similarly the Dodo representations tell you as much about the human artist as they do about the animal. Some dodo images are butterball fat, with enviably chunky drumsticks and squat little legs. These images scream “I am food: eat me!” to the viewer. One look at chubby birdy and you can tell in a flash why they went extinct. They’re the Colonel Sanders icons of the Age of Discovery. Hmmnnn…. that advertising jingle springs to mind, “I feel like Dodo tonight, like Dodo tonight”.

Other images show a more graceful elongated duck. One memorable etching depicts a stretched duck-like bird with legs firmly anchored under its bottom, making it unlikely that the bird could ever walk, let alone run away from potential predators. Dodos are variously imagined as deformed pelicans, bulked up macaws or as an exotic version of the Christmas turkey.